The Messenger Bird

By Franklin Dent

I wrote this story twenty years ago but was reminded of it yesterday by the observance of the Baptism of our Lord. The Gospel lesson was Mark 1:4-11 where we hear “And a voice came down from heaven, ‘You are my beloved Son; with you I am well pleased.’”

As a boy, and a native of Oklahoma, I imagined the Spirit descending in the form of a scissor-tail flycatcher, the Oklahoma state bird and a memorable sight to spot in the wild.

Long ago, when the Earth was younger and the people lived close to the land, Mother and a Father Scissortail took turns collecting food to feed their five babies, who squawked and cried for food, pushing and stretching to be the first to gobble what was offered them for their meal.  

One little bird soon learned that there was no reason to squawk when Mother or Father was gone because there was no food to squawk for.  So, while his brothers and sisters chirped and cheeped and pushed and shoved to be first to eat food that wasn’t there, this little bird was content to look out at the great world beyond the edge of the nest.  It was beautiful! There were green leaves dancing in the sunlight and white puffy clouds floating against the blue sky.  

Leaning out at the edge of the nest one day he heard something new and different.  It wasn’t the chirping and squawking and complaining of baby birds wanting to be fed.  It was the voice of a small boy on the ground below, sitting at the foot of the tree.  There was something in the voice of the small boy that troubled the little bird.  He climbed up on the edge of the nest to hear better.

The little boy said, “Oh, Great Spirit, I know my Father watches me as I play with the other boys, shooting our arrows, and tracking the wild things in the forest.  Oh, Great Spirit, I know my Father wants me to be a good hunter. It would make him so proud, but I have no skill at tracking or hunting.  I’m always last in all the games.  Where the other boys see paw prints I see nothing but grass and leaves and twigs.  When we shoot our bows, my arrows fly everywhere like quails frightened from their nest.  Oh, Great Spirit, help me to track the rabbit and the squirrel, give me sight to see what you can see, guide my arrows to my target, and do not let my father be ashamed of me.  You are great in your wisdom and in your power.  I will do the best I can, will you do the rest?”

Even though the little bird had never heard a human voice before, these words sounded so sad to him.  He felt he had to do something; he had to help the boy.  But what could he do? Suddenly, the little bird was knocked backwards into the nest by a feathery swipe from Father’s wing.  “Careful!” Father said.  “You must be careful there, little Scissortail.  You’re safe inside this nest but you are not safe out on the edge.  You cannot fly yet and if you fall I would not be able to catch you.” 

At dusk, the baby birds settled themselves to rest from a weary day of eating and squabbling for food.  The little bird’s head drooped down on his chest and he was soon sound asleep.  He dreamed of the boy and his prayer to the Great Spirit and wondered why the boy sounded so sad.  

As the days went by the sun grew warmer and the fury of a summer storm would sometimes threaten in the afternoon, but Mother and Father were there to protect them.  The little bird was fascinated by the world outside the nest. Out there is where the real flying is done, not the hopping up and down, and flapping of downy wings that the babies did all day.  He heard many more voices out there beyond the nest, some sad and mournful, some joyful, some angry and ugly.  What are all the voices saying?  And what of that little boy, did he learn to hunt and shoot straight?  Is his father proud of him? 

One day, he hopped onto the edge of the nest in hopes of seeing the little boy again.  He used his wings to boost himself in the air and then felt for the rim of the nest with his feet.  But, he could not find it to grasp hold of.  It must be there! Suddenly, he realized that he was outside the nest and the only thing between him and the ground far, far below was the flapping of his two untested and uncertain wings.  

He was not afraid.  He had watched Mother and Father fly to bring food to the hatchlings many times every day.  He knew what to do.  He also knew he was not ready to do it, not today, not now.  His wings were growing weary as he watched the nest rising higher and higher over his head.  He looked down to the earth that was rising up to meet him and, suddenly, the sky and the earth traded places, again and again.  He was tumbling toward the ground.  He didn’t like the sound the leaves made when he crashed through them.  He didn’t like the way it felt to bounce off the branches, either.  

He was still not afraid but the sky should be up and the ground should be down.  He thought of Mother and Father and how they used their tails to turn and steer, so he spread his tail and instantly his tumbling slowed down.  He remembered that Mother and Father didn’t always flap their wings when they flew.  Sometimes they stretched them out wide and glided.  So he stopped flapping his wings and stretched them out as wide as he could stretch them.  The tumbling had stopped, the sky was up, the ground was down and he could feel the air rushing past him as he moved forward.  So this is what it felt like to fly! 

He could hear the frightened voices of his brothers and sisters calling out to him and he tried looking for the nest way up there somewhere in the tree.  He heard his Father’s voice, strong, commanding, and reassuring.  “I’m coming, Son.  I’ll be there soon.  Let me hear you call to me, let me know where you are, and I’ll be there.”

The little bird cried out, “Father! Father! I’m lost!

“Stay still.  Don’t move, I’ll come to you.”  Father thought the little bird must be on the ground.

“I’m flying and I can’t stop.  Can you see me?”  Calling for Father had distracted him from flying, he was starting to falter, and he fluttered and flapped his wings frantically again.  Suddenly, with a flash of feathers, Father was flying beside him.  

“You’re flying!” Father said.  “I thought you’d be hopping around on the ground under the tree.  Look at you flying!” 

“What should I do?” warbled the little bird.  “I can’t stop.”

“The nest is in this tree.  Just keep flying around the outside of the branches, around the tree in a circle.  Are you tired?”

The little bird started to cry.  He wanted so badly to be safe and sound in the nest under his Father’s wing.  “I can’t feel my wings anymore.” 

“All right, we’re going to perch on a branch.  Do you know how to do that?”

“No.  What do I do?” The little bird was getting frantic to rest but was not going to be afraid now with Father there.

“Here, I’ll show you.”  Father flew on ahead and talked through the maneuver as he performed it.  “Pick a branch.  Fly below it.  Use your tail to zip above the branch.  Stretch your wings wide to slow down, small flutters for balance, settle down on the branch and grab it.”  He turned to see the little bird fly past him.  “Can you do that?”  Father flew off to keep up with his son.

The little bird talked his way through the landing, just as Father had done.  “Pick a branch…not that one.  There’s a good one.  Fly below it.  Use my tail, zip up, wings out, little flaps, grab the bran…whoa! Where is it?”  The little bird couldn’t hold on to the branch.  Father was right beside him and together they fell, flapping their wings for stability, onto the branch below.  Father grabbed the branch.  The little bird grabbed it, too, and the branch bounced up and down as they settled in.  Father looked expectantly at the little bird.  “Got it?”

The little bird leaned heavily against Father and began to sob.  Father put his wing over him and chirped softly to him.  Then he called off to Mother, “I’ve got him! Stay at the nest.  We’re going to rest, then we’ll be home.”

“We’re going to try something different the rest of the way.  Watch me.”  Father leaped off the branch, flapped his wings a few times and landed on a branch a few inches above the little bird.  He turned and looked at his son.  “Can you do that?”  The little bird looked at Father, frightened, and shook his head.  Father was stern.  “You’re not safe on that branch.  We have to get you back to the nest.”

The little bird took a deep breath, jumped up, pulled with his wings and felt with his feet for the branch next to Father.  He had it!  “Balance with your tail,” Father reminded him.  No sooner had he settled onto the branch but Father turned, jumped, flapped and landed on another branch a few feet higher.  “Come on!” called Father.

The little bird followed, landed, and Father took off again.  The little bird kept his eyes on where he wanted to go and pulled himself up, stroke by stroke.  After each landing, he took a deep breath and watched his father lead the way, branch by branch, up through the tree, and finally he settled into the nest, falling on top of his brothers and sisters who rejoiced at his safe return.

That night, the little bird did not have a restful sleep.  He had dreams that troubled him.  Not because they were scary dreams but because he didn’t understand them.  He could hear his father calling, “I’m coming, Son.  I’ll be there soon.  Let me hear you call to me, let me know where you are, and I’ll be there.”  It was Father’s voice but it wasn’t Father’s voice alone.  There was another voice that spoke the words, a deeper, higher, louder, softer, sterner, gentler voice.  How uneasy the voice made the little bird feel.  And then, he would hear the sound the leaves make when he crashed into them, and he cringed in his sleep, waiting to hit a big branch that would surely knock him senseless, but the crash never came.  Just the voice, like Father’s but not Father’s, saying “…Let me hear you call to me, let me know where you are, and I’ll be there.”

“What troubles you, little Scissortail?”  The little bird stirred in his sleep, this voice was definitely Father and he was not dreaming.  He opened his eyes and saw his father watching over him in his sleep.  The little bird sighed, bowed his head and said, “I didn’t mean to leave the nest, I’m not ready to fly, Father.”  “What did you hear outside the nest that interested you so much?” said Father.  The little bird tried to remember; it seemed so long ago.  “I don’t know,” he said.  “I hear other kinds of singing sometime.  It’s not like you or Mother singing to me, or the way you scold the hawks and crows that get too close to the nest.  I hear other voices, other songs.”

Father looked at him with sad, wise eyes.  “Today, you became a fledgling.  You flew.  And, you learned two very important lessons, little Scissortail.  First, always look where you want to go, never let your eyes be drawn to where you do not want to go.  Second, you will fly higher with your heart than your wings will ever take you.  You didn’t fly from branch to branch back to the nest because you could do it, you did it because the nest is your home.  Now, get your rest, for tomorrow will bring more lessons.” 

The little bird snuggled down with his brothers and sisters, closed his eyes and repeated to himself, “Always look where you want to go.  You will fly higher with your heart than your wings…” and he was fast asleep.

It was still dark when Father Bird arose the next morning.  He stood at the edge of the nest, spread his tail and stretched out his wings as far as he could and looked up to the sky.  He was the first bird awake in the woods but made no sound, as it was not yet time for the new day to begin.  He closed his eyes and opened his heart and gave thanks to the Great Spirit for all he was and for all he had and for all that would be.  Mother Bird stirred and looked at him.  “Morning already?” she said.  Father Bird cooed to her, “Shh! Go back to sleep.  The boy and I are just going to take a little glide around the neighborhood.” 

Father nudged the little bird awake.  He sat up and looked around at the early morning sky.  “Yes, Father?” he said.  “Who are you?” Father asked.  “I’m your son,” answered the little bird.”  “Indeed!” squawked Father, “What are you?”  “I’m a bird,” answered the fledgling, growing uncertain of Father’s questions and uncertain of his answers.  “You’re a Scissortail,” corrected Father.  

“What is your name?” asked Father and the little bird was curious.  He hadn’t thought of having a name.  “From now on, I will call you Forfex, which means Scissors.”  “Forfex,” the fledgling said his name softly to himself, with wonder at the strangeness of the sound.  

“Why do you have wings, Forfex?” asked Father.  The little bird thought and said, “Because you and Mother have wings and I am your child.”  “True enough,” agreed Father, “but you have wings because the Great Spirit gave them to you.  And if the Great Spirit gave you wings what are you to do with them?”  The little bird smiled, “Fly?”  Father nodded briskly, said, “Follow me,” and dove out of the nest.  Forfex scrambled to the edge of the nest and could barely see his father flying toward daybreak beyond the branches.  Without another thought the little bird leapt from the nest and followed.

Some mother and father birds push their babies out of the nest and expect them to teach themselves to fly–if they survive.  Others abandon their nests so that when their babies get hungry enough they must fly from the nest on their own.  Scissortails take great pride in flightcraft, the art and science of flying, and lovingly teach their children to soar and dip and bank and dive.  It was especially important to Father for this little Scissortail to master the sky, because he sensed that the Great Spirit had called his son to a special purpose, to be a Messenger Bird.  

Messenger Birds are legendary among the Scissortails and to each generation only a handful are called.  Their calling is sacred because they carry the prayers of the people to the ear of God.  Messenger Birds required two special skills, they must be exceptional flyers and they must be able to bear the burden of prayer.  

Now, all Scissortails are great flyers but only the very best can be candidates for Messenger Bird.  Some young birds, the more vain and self-satisfied, believe they have been called because they fancy themselves to be superior flyers.  It is the second requirement that truly distinguishes all Messenger Birds.  For the most part, birds can understand the songs of other birds, the wren understands the robin, and the finch understands the flicker.  But, to most birds, the speech of humans sounds no different than dogs barking or squirrels chattering.  Surely, humans are saying something, but what it is exactly, no bird can really tell.  Except for Messenger Birds.  And more than the words that people say, Messenger Birds hear the language of their hearts.  It is this special trait that draws the young Messenger Bird to the edge of the nest and causes him to be troubled by the mourning of a widow or the loneliness of an orphan.  

That first day of flying lessons was easy.  Father flew in a circle around and around the outside of the branches.  Forfex followed.  Father landed on a branch and so did Forfex.  Father flew higher, then glided lower, then banked sharply and flew the opposite way around the tree.  Each time, Father would turn to see if the little bird was still with him.  Forfex followed.  So the lessons went.  Each morning the lessons got harder and Father watched to make sure his fledgling perfected each lesson.  

The next morning Forfex yawned, stretched and flew to catch up with his father who had darted to the outside of the tree and was flying up and up in an easy, lazy spiral waiting for him.  As soon as the student caught up, the teacher darted straight up into the air saying, “Watch closely,” and then, without warning, made a fast square-corner turn.  “Can you do that?” Father said.  “No!” said Forfex, “I’ve never seen anything turn that fast.” 

“That turn is impossible without a full scissor tail and yours is still growing.  Now let me show you why you need to be able to do this.  Follow me.”  They flew next to each other high above the trees until Father suddenly darted up and off and then turned to show Forfex the fat, juicy mayfly he had caught.  He crunched it down with a big grin.  “There’s an old saying among Scissortails, ‘If you can see it, you can catch it.’  The air is full of food and if you can fly like that, you’ll never go hungry.  And neither will your family.  Let’s see what you can do.”

Forfex looked around and there was breakfast waiting for him everywhere.  Forfex darted from insect to insect and realized that he could almost make that turn when there was a nice flying morsel to tempt him.

“Cah-key! Cah-key, cah-key!” Father shouted suddenly.  The anger in his voice startled Forfex and he forgot about breakfast.  Forfex turned to see Father wheel about and dash toward a hawk that was circling in the distance, high overhead.  He had never seen Father fly so fast or shout with such command in his voice.  Forfex started after him as fast as he could fly but the climb upward was very steep and Father was closing the gap to the hawk very quickly.  

Surely, Father will turn back now that the hawk is showing no interest in our part of the woods.  But, Father did not stop, he flew on faster and faster until he flew right at the hawk, attacking him with his beak, then made a sharp left turn, just the way he had shown Forfex in today’s lesson, and attacked the hawk with his beak again.  The hawk snapped at Father with a harsh screech, but kept flying away.  Again, Father made a sharp maneuver, flying straight up, and then looping down to attack the hawk from overhead. 

Forfex was horrified, that hawk could attack at any second and Father would have no defense against that hooked beak.  Again and again, Father snapped at the hawk’s head and back and wings until, finally, Father pulled up and hovered in a tight circle, shouting after the hawk to make sure there was no mistaking how Father felt about the hawk trespassing.

Forfex was surprised at how calm Father seemed when he finally reached him.  Only seconds before, he was screeching at a deadly hawk and attacking it with his beak.  They flew together now, with easy strokes of their wings and long gliding circles as they descended toward the nest.  “Father?” Forfex finally ventured to speak, “Is everything all right?”  Father was very casual in his response, “Beautiful morning, isn’t it?” Forfex hardly knew what to say.  Father actually seemed happier than usual, chirped a little to himself as he flew, occasionally called out to Mother to let her know they were nearly home.  

That night, Forfex slept fitfully.  There was much on his mind.  And, he also heard the voices of people who were seeking a place to lay their sorrows. He stretched and looked about, and saw his Father watching him.  “What troubles you, Forfex? You’ve hardly slept all night.”  Forfex answered, “You must not be sleeping either, Father, if you’ve been watching me.”  Father said, “Are you hearing those other songs tonight?”

Forfex nodded and said, “Yes.”  The stillness of the night wrapped them in close comfort.  “Father?” said Forfex softly.  “Hmm?” Father replied.  “Why did you go after the hawk like that today?”  “Were you frightened?” asked Father.  “Yes,” replied Forfex.  Father smiled, “For me or for the hawk?” 

Forfex hadn’t thought about the hawk being in trouble.  “We Scissortails are ferocious in protecting our territory.  We have a certain…” Father thought for the right word, “…reputation that way.”  Forfex didn’t understand, “But the hawk could’ve…”  Father interrupted, “Could’ve, but didn’t, and won’t, so long as he has a doubt in his mind about his ability to defeat me in a fair fight.  And for us, a fair fight is in the open air.  We can out fly the hawk, and the owl, and the crow, and all the others.  Yes, the hawk has better weapons at close range, talons that grasp, a beak that rips, and wings that can lift a baby rabbit, or squirrel, or Scissortail right out of his safe secure home and off to his dinner table.  But, we never give them that chance.  That’s why if they cross into our territory we never wait to see what their interests are, we go right after them.  They can come so close and no closer.  If they think they can edge a little closer today, closer still tomorrow, until they’re close enough to swoop down, grab a baby Scissortail and fly off, then we’d never be able to rest or take our eyes off the nest.  I don’t care if the hawk is minding his own business, he’s got no business circling around where he can see my nest.  Do you understand?  Scissortails never leave the defenseless undefended.  Never.”

Forfex was both proud and frightened by Father’s conviction and devotion to assuring a safe home for the family.  But, still he was troubled.  Finally, he said, “I don’t think I’m brave enough to attack a hawk, Father.”  His father smiled and looked at him with bright, reassuring eyes.  “I would never think to attack a hawk without reason.  Your father’s not crazy.  Remember, I said ‘a fair fight,’ one that I choose that favors Scissortails.  Once you have little ones of your own, you’ll see.  You’ll just do what needs to be done.  And, Mother is no different.  If it had been her today, she would’ve done the same.”  He felt more love for his Father and Mother than he had ever known.

Then, Father asked with great curiosity, “The other songs you hear, Forfex, I cannot hear them.  What are they like?”

Forfex thought, listened, and could not find the words.  “I’ll show you,” he said.  He hopped out of the nest to a nearby branch, listened and then flew silently over the treetops toward something he had heard.  He settled down in a tree near a camp for the people of the forest.  Father landed next to him.  Together they listened in the dark.  “Do you hear that?” Forfex said.  Father listened, and then shook his head, “I hear something but I don’t know what it means.”  Forfex said, “It is a young woman.  She is to be wed to a man that she does not love.  She loves another.  She is very sad and thinks her life is over.  She weeps for the Great Spirit to hear her plea, to move the heart of the fathers to stop the wedding before it is too late.”  Father looks at him and shakes his head.  “Don’t you hear that?” said Forfex.  “I hear something.  I hear the breeze in the leaves; there will be a storm in the morning.  I know that people are nearby.  I know that a woodpecker has a nest in this tree.  But, I don’t hear anything else.” 

Forfex was very upset, “Father, I know what I hear.  But, if you don’t hear it, how can I be sure that what I hear is real?  Is there something wrong with me?”  Father knew it was time to tell his son what he felt to be true.  “You are different but there is nothing wrong with you.  You have been chosen to be a Messenger Bird and to serve the Great Spirit.”

It sounded so important, and so impossible.  Serving the Great Spirit was not something a young Scissortail could easily grasp.  “What am I supposed to do?  How do I learn?” said Forfex very excitedly.  “I learned much of flying by watching you and Mother and when I fell from the nest, I somehow knew what to do.  If I’m to be a Messenger Bird, where am I to learn what to do, and how to do it?”

“Well, let me see…how does it make you feel to hear this woman crying?” asked Father.

“Terrible.  My heart feels so heavy.  I want the woman to know joy and happiness.  I want the man she loves to be happy and I want the man she’s going to marry to be happy, too.”

“I see.  Don’t you know what it is you should do?” asked Father.

“No.  All I know is my heart is burdened.  I feel like flying away so I can’t hear anymore.  But, still, I hear voices like hers in my sleep, when I’m looking for food, when I’m flying in the sunlight, all the day and night.  It makes me feel so restless.”

Father said, “Son, you must take these prayers and give them to the Great Spirit.  You cannot hang on to them; they are too big for you.  You are a Messenger Bird, you must capture the prayers of the people and deliver them to heaven.”

“How is that possible?” said Forfex.  “How can anyone see God in this life?”

Father knows his wisdom reaches only so far into a territory that is not his to know.  “Have you ever heard another voice, a voice you did not know, a voice that was unlike the others?”

Forfex was tired of thinking.  “No,” he says.  And then, he was reminded of the voice in the dream.  “Yes!  There was another voice, in a dream.  I thought it was you but it wasn’t you.  It was quiet and loud, big and small, gentle and stern all at once.  It made me feel very frightened.”

Father asked, “What did it say?”

“It was the day I fell from the nest.  When you came for me you told me to call for you and you would be there with me.  That night I had a dream of falling from the nest and this voice said, ‘…Let me hear you call to me, let me know where you are, and I’ll be there.’”

Father smiled and nodded to his son.  “So, you have heard the call, but didn’t know it.  You must do as the Great Spirit tells you.”  Father turned to fly home.

“Wait! Father, where are you going?” asked Forfex worriedly.

“You have work to do and I cannot help you anymore.  Go! Fly to the highest tree and pour out your heart in song to the Great Spirit.  Let Him know where you are and He will come to you.”  Father plunged into the pale moonlight and in a flash he was gone.

Forfex had never been alone before, and it was night and he was far from the nest.  He felt like crying but he knew Father was right.  So he flew to the top of the tree and looked at the diamond stars tossed against the inky black blanket of night.  He watched as the slim crescent moon slowly sank toward the horizon.  He looked around, hoping for a sign of daylight.  He sat and waited, for what he did not know.  He tried to say something, to sing a song to the Great Spirit but he had no voice to sing.  Finally, he whispered to the distant heavens, “Here I am, God,” and waited.

Sleep was overtaking him when he heard a rumble that rolled from one edge of the sky to the other.  Lightning flashed dimly along the western horizon and slowly the rumble came again and rolled past him to the north and to the south.  “Father was right,” he thought, “there will be a storm in the morning.” 

He thought of Father and Mother and wished that they were there to tell him what to do.  In that instant, he felt himself falling from the tree.  He instantly spread his wings and extended their tips to stabilize himself, scissored out his tail and turned his head to face the sky.  But, quickly he realized he was not falling down.  He was falling up.  He heard a voice, the voice from his dream, say “What are you, little bird?” Forfex replied, “I am a Scissortail.”  “And why do you have wings?” the voice said.  “Because the Great Spirit made me to fly,” replied Forfex, desperately trying to control his upward flight.  The voice said, “Then fly.  Fly to me.”  Forfex could not disobey.  He started taking long, strong, certain strokes and flew ever upward in a tight spiral until the moon seemed like a stepping stone beneath him and the stars seemed like sparks rising up to him from a camp fire.  He had no sensation of struggle but he had never flown faster and had never been higher.  He realized that if he simply spread his wings and banked he would glide ever upward without any effort.  

The night sky fell away and he saw he was in a cloud softer than the breath of spring and the cloud began to glow around him.  Soon he knew that he was not climbing anymore and that his upward flight had ended.  He could move and stretch his wings and tail like he was perched on a branch but if he reached out with his feet he could grasp nothing.  He felt that it was the light itself that held him like a fragile egg in a nest as big as all creation.

The Great Spirit said, “What have you to tell me, Messenger Bird?”

Forfex inhaled the sweet cloud around him and breathed out all the heartache he had carried from the voices that drew him from the nest, that interrupted his sleep, that distracted his days, and burdened his heart.  He sang of the little boy who could not hunt, of the woman who was marrying a man she did not love, of the child whose father did not return from battle, of the man whose children would grow up with no mother, of the little girl who was afraid of her father, of the boy who was caged by his own anger, of the old man whose lifelong companion was dying, of the girl who stole a beaded belt and felt ashamed, of the chief who feared his enemies, of the people who struggled for food, of the jealousy that separated brothers, and all the other songs he had heard and carried with him day after day.

When Forfex could sing no more, the Great Spirit whispered to him, “Rest,” and he fell into a deep sleep.  When he awoke, the sun was shining in his eyes and he was perched on the top of a tree, far from the nest.  Along the western horizon, storm clouds reached high into the heavens and the dawn was red and orange and angry.  “Father was right, it will storm this morning,” he thought.  He had thought that before, before he had fallen asleep, before the dream.  But, it couldn’t have been a dream, it really happened, it must’ve.  “I’ve dreamed before and awakened with all the same burdens on my heart that I had fallen asleep with,” he reasoned.  “This morning, I feel rested and lighthearted and happier than I can remember feeling.  It wasn’t a dream.”

Forfex returned to the nest to tell Father and Mother what had happened.  Their hearts were filled with pride, but they knew it was time for their son to leave them.  There was important work to be done and they knew he had been specially chosen to do it.  Mother and Father made him promise to join them, after the leaves turned colors, in their winter home far to the south. Confident that Forfex had learned the directions on how to join them in the fall, Mother and Father watched Forfex leave the nest to begin his new life, and their hearts went with him.  

As the days passed, he learned to fly closer to the people and to listen unobserved.  He would hear them as they poured out their hearts in prayer and he would feel the burden on his own heart grow heavier and heavier.  And then, when he could bear it no more, he would fly to the highest treetop and sing, “Here I am Great Spirit.  My heart is heavy with prayer.  Will you take these burdens from me?”  Soon, he would hear the voice say, “Tell me, what have my children been praying?”  And the Messenger Bird would fly up and up and up, above the worries and cares of the world into the waiting presence of the Great Spirit.  There he would sing out all that he had heard.  Each time he would hear the command, “Rest,” and he would sleep deeply until he awakened back in the treetops.

One day, he heard the voice of a man rejoicing.  Far from the camps of the people, a man was singing and shouting for joy.  He had tricked a man into believing that if he left his most prized possessions out in the forest under a goat skin that when he returned in the morning he would find his treasure doubled.  This man was happy that he had cheated another and was praising the Great Spirit for his good fortune.

Then, he heard another voice, a song of anguish.  Without hesitation he flew toward the sound of the voice, and found a man weeping bitterly that he had been robbed.  He prayed that the Great Spirit would deliver the cheat into his hands that he might beat him and kill him and reclaim what was rightfully his.  He prayed that all the evil spirits would join with him to track the robber down and to strengthen him to deliver justice to his enemy.

Forfex was terribly upset.  He could not deliver these prayers to the Great Spirit.  These were not prayers to heaven, these were evil prayers.  In the distance, he heard another cry of pain.  He dashed away from his perch in search of this troubled song and found a young woman walking with her sick infant.  The woman was wild with grief.  She prayed for the baby to recover and be strong but she blamed the Great Spirit for the illness.  “How could God let my baby be taken so young?  She is so sweet and innocent; she has done nothing to harm anyone!  Why would heaven take my baby from me!”  In her grief, the woman vowed that if the baby died, she would never sing a song of praise to the Great Spirit again.

Forfex could not believe his ears.  How could anyone not praise the majesty and wisdom of God?  But more voices now tugged at his ear and he realized that the sky had grown black and the wind was blowing and that a terrible storm was snaking down from the sky, attacking the forest and the animals and people who called it home.  He tried to fly away to safety but quickly realized he could make no progress in the fierce wind and rain.  So he hopped from branch to branch until he was deep into the heart of the tree.  There he saw blue jays, squirrels, finches, red-winged blackbirds, and chipmunks all desperate for shelter from the fury of the storm.  As the animals huddled next to each other for safety, Forfex could hear the terror in the voice of the people in the camps.  Their teepees were being destroyed, their food was being ruined, their possessions were being scattered far and wide, their children were in danger, and there was no refuge.  

The storm raged for only a few terrifying minutes but it was enough to destroy the lives of many people and displace many animals from their homes.  The wind and rain stopped and the sun pierced the angry clouds.  Many hearts were anguished, many men were defeated by the loss of home and shelter, but many rejoiced and praised God that they had been kept safe, that their neighbors, their family, and loved ones were safe, and they prayed that the Great Spirit would guide them to good hunting and provide a new place to find shelter.  Forfex thought of his own family.  He dashed to that familiar corner of the forest, and rose up through the tree looking for the nest, but it was gone.  There was no sign of Father or Mother.  He called and sang for them but there was no answer.  He flew around the tree and squawked for his brothers and sisters.  But no one could be found.  He was troubled and felt suddenly very alone in the world.  

Soon, the voices of the people, the wicked joy of the robber, the anguish of the man who had been tricked, the bitterness of the young mother once again burdened his heart.  He perched in the top of the tree and sang to the Great Spirit.  “Here I am, Oh, God!  It is your servant, Forfex.  Please release me, Great Spirit.  I do not want to be your Messenger Bird.  I cannot bear the burdens of the people’s prayers any longer.  Their pain and suffering is a burden to me, but the evil desires of their hearts is more than I can bear.  They pray such terrible things I cannot bring myself to tell you.”  Distant lightning and deep rumbles of thunder interrupted his plea.  “And what of my own family?  There is no one left but me.  Now I am completely alone in the world and I haven’t the strength to fly to you any more.”

A cold wind followed the storm and Forfex shivered in the treetop.  In the rolling thunder he could hear the voice, “Come to me.”  In the distant lightning he could see the warm sweet cloud of peace beckoning to him.  He could not disobey.  He leaped from the treetop and pulled with his wings, up and up and up.  He had never had to struggle like this before.  It had always been like gliding upward in the past.  But now each stroke of his wings was desperate, every inch a struggle to gain heaven and rest.  

Forfex awoke from a dreamless sleep in the sweet breath of spring, the glowing nest of all creation.  He had no sense of time, or breathing, or thinking.  He understood the Great Spirit knew his thoughts, examined his heart, and weighed his spirit.  Slowly, he remembered his prayer at the treetop and felt ashamed.  He couldn’t find words for what he felt and he whispered, “Forgive me?”

Forfex had felt many things as the prayers of the people had lodged in his heart, sorrow, guilt, shame, loneliness, anger and desperation.  He was wrapped in the smile of heaven and knew what it was to be forgiven.

“You are a good and faithful Messenger Bird,” he felt the voice say.  “Do you want to be released?  Do you wish to leave my service?”

Forfex closed his eyes and breathed, “No! Please don’t ever let me leave you.  I am small and weak.  I think the thoughts a small, weak creature thinks.”

“Then remember this: I do not ask you to answer their prayers.  I do not ask you to understand what they say, or feel, or do.  I ask only that you catch their prayers and deliver them to me faithfully.  Will you do that, Messenger Bird?”

Although there was no up or down, Forfex stood as tall as he could in the midst of the cloud, stretched his wings and scissored his tail, and said, “As you strengthen me, so shall I be strong, as you encourage me, so shall I be brave, as you comfort me, so shall I be tireless.”

Forfex was ready now to awaken back in the treetop as he had always before.  But, he was still cradled in the nest of heaven.  He thought this curious and waited.  He felt the Great Spirit was still nearby and waiting for him.  He didn’t know what to do.  “Do you have something to ask me?” he heard the voice say.  Forfex searched himself but couldn’t find a question.  Then he thought, “My family!”  The voice said, “They are safe, already gone south.  It is time for you to join them at their winter home.”  Forfex took a long, deep breath of the spring-sweet cloud that cradled him and awoke early in the morning on the top of a tree.

He felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time.  He was hungry.  He looked around at his prospects for breakfast and thought to himself, “If I can see it, I can catch it.” He laughed at the memory of Father teaching him this old saying of the Scissortails and leaped into the air in search of food.  The sun was not even peaking over the horizon yet, but the sky was bright and breakfast was zooming all around him.  He darted and cartwheeled and zigzagged and did back-flips in the growing daylight, feasting on the crunchy fat flying things that had the misfortune of picking today to fly anywhere near him.

Soon, the sun was brushing the treetops and he felt the growing warmth of the sun easing the cold bite of morning air.  He noticed how the leaves were looking tired, some had even lost their color in favor of a dull rust, or pale orange, or lustrous gold.  He had never seen autumn before, the whole world had been summer from the day of his birth.  He quickly thought through the directions Mother and Father had given him on how to join them in their winter home.  It would be time to fly south to join them soon.  The leaves were already turning, the rest of the family had already gone, why not today? 

He climbed high into the cloudless sky and, with the morning sun on his left wing, began gliding and soaring his way south.  But Forfex could not refuse to answer the call of someone in prayer and it was hard for him to keep to his task.  There were many other birds also making the trip, but he could not join them as long as a plaintive prayer or a cry of despair from the people below distracted him.  He covered as much distance as he could each day and each night he made his way to the top of the highest tree and whispered to God, “Here I am, your Messenger Forfex.”

One time, after breathing his burden to the glowing, spring-sweet cloud, he fell asleep expecting to wake up back in the treetops.  Instead, when he awoke, he was still in heaven.  Puzzled, but pleased, Forfex waited quietly for whatever the Great Spirit had for him to do.  He would wait, think about the Great Spirit, sleep, and awake in heaven again.  Pleased, but puzzled, Forfex began to wonder about what may come next.  Once he heard himself saying, “Oh Great Spirit, I am your servant, Forfex.  How would you have me serve you?”

Forfex felt the Great Spirit say, “You are a faithful Messenger Bird.  You deliver the prayers of the people to me dutifully.  Now, I have a message I want you to deliver to the people.  Will you be faithful in delivering my message?”

Forfex was very concerned.  “But how? My heart fills up with prayers and I bring them to heaven.  I have no gift of speech to people.”

“What are you, little bird?” said the Lord.  Forfex replied, “I am a Scissortail.”  “And why do you have wings?” the voice said.  “Because the Great Spirit made me to fly,” replied Forfex.  The voice said, “Then fly.  Fly to my people for me.” 

Forfex trembled with excitement and awe with what he was being asked to do.  “Where shall I go and what shall I say?”

The voice replied, “I have chosen a people to be my light in the world.  They are a stubborn people, as are all my children.  But I have chosen this people to receive my Son, who will teach them, heal them, comfort them, and redeem my children everywhere.  They do not know Him yet.  Today, you will fly to him and the people will see you descend from the heavens and by alighting on his shoulder they will receive my message.”

Forfex was filled with wonder by the importance of this special message.  He was going to deliver a message for the whole world to hear.  Suddenly, his heart was uncertain as he remembered one of his earliest flying lessons, “the hardest part of learning to fly is landing.”  The thought of flying down from the heavens to land on the shoulder of the Son of God suddenly made him feel very inadequate to the task.

He felt very uncomfortable.  The Lord said, “Why do you worry, Messenger Bird?”  Forfex breathed in the glowing comfort that sustained him and said, “As you strengthen me, so shall I be strong, as you encourage me, so shall I be brave, as you comfort me, so shall I be tireless.”

Forfex awoke to find himself flying down from a very great height.  The mountains and trees and rivers and seas seemed so small as he glided in a very great circle, ever downward, slowly, and gracefully.  Suddenly, his confidence was shattered by several thoughts that came tumbling into his mind at once, “Where am I?  Where am I going?  Where is God’s Son, how will I know him?”  As he flew lower and lower, his fears grew greater and greater.  “I have been given the most important message a Messenger Bird has ever delivered and I’m lost!  Maybe there will be some local Scissortail who can help me.  Stop and ask directions to the Son of God!  How embarrassing!  This is terrible, I’m so ashamed!”  Within moments, Forfex had gone from feeling sustained by the grace of the Great Spirit to feeling like a poor, weak, little bird.

Still, he descended, slowly, gracefully.  Off in the distance, near the horizon, he saw the familiar, beckoning glow of heaven.  It was very small, no bigger than a man, and so very far away, but nonetheless, it had the spring-breath light and the soft comfort of the nest of creation in it.  He banked gently to begin a swift descent and soon felt the rushing strength of wind beneath his wings.  “No, slow down, you’re going too fast!  Too fast to land,” he thought to himself.  He looked out at his wings and could see they were losing the distinctive markings of a Scissortail.  The wind was painting his wings a pure, pearl white.  He looked at his chest and belly and saw that they had been painted purest white by the fingers of the wind.  And his tail!  His proud, long scissortail, longer than his whole body, was replaced by the snowy white wedge of some other kind of bird.  He had been completely transformed into a different kind of Messenger Bird.

Suddenly, he was wrapped in a dark cloud.  The blue sky above was swallowed up, and below all he could see was dark bubbling vapor.  He felt disoriented and despaired that he might fail his mission.  The Great Spirit had trusted him, and him alone, of all Messenger Birds, and now he doubted that he could ever return to heaven again.  He thought of how ashamed Father would be to see him filled with such doubt.  

As suddenly as he had entered the cloud, he was released from it.  Below him was the wilderness of Judea, although he did not know this part of creation.  There were some people standing by a river.  Everything was all rushing up so fast and he couldn’t stop it.  “Where is He? I was certain I saw the soft glow of heaven over here, this must be the spot.”  He said aloud, as he had so many times before, “Here I am, Lord.”  He looked about for something, someone, to give him direction and saw a man standing in the river.  It looked like he was holding someone else, another man who was in the water.  He remembered what he had thought to the Great Spirit when he receive the assignment, “As you strengthen me, so shall I be strong, as you encourage me, so shall I be brave, as you comfort me, so shall I be tireless.”  The man standing in the river raised the other man out of the water, and the sudden display of heavenly light was nearly blinding to Forfex. 

How could anyone not see that this man had left a home in heaven and must be God’s Son?  Jesus looked toward heaven and Forfex could see the bright, white comfort of heaven shining down on him like a landing beacon for wayward fliers.

As he made his approach he could see the people standing near by.  He looked at their faces with so many different emotions, just like all the feelings he could hear in their prayers.  Then he could hear Father saying, “Always look where you want to go” and he snapped his eyes back to look at Jesus’ shoulder.  

Forfex had made thousands of landings since he first fell from the nest, but this time, for the most important landing of all, he was going too fast and the angle as all wrong.  “Use your tail, stretch your wings wide, small flutters for balance, and down.”  He had landed on the shoulder of the Son of God.  And suddenly a voice came from heaven, saying, “This is My beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.”

Forfex straightened his feathers and nestled onto Jesus’ shoulder.  He had delivered the Message.

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